from Father's Day: A Journey into the Mind and Heart of My Extraordinary Son by Buzz Bissinger:
We are headed for Six Flags today. Zach has forever felt liberation in amusement parks, his primal screams unplugged, his dance upon the moon. The ratchet of the roller-coaster cars to the top before the perpendicular plummet. The loops upon loops upon loops in increasingly perilous circles. Right side up. Upside down. Compressed. Contorted. It is all part of his rush.
I like them as an uprising against middle age. Unlike my son I am not fearless. There is no rush, just the hiccupping heart and the churning stomach straight to the rooftop restaurant of the throat. Some of the rides, named after a natural disaster or a misshapen comic book villain, accompanied by the ennui of teenage operators in striped shirts and scratched-at pimples most likely distracted by trying to come up with new slogans for the front of black T-shirts, offer neither sympathy nor solace.
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